


Secure, Contain, Poetry

by TheGuyWhoWroteAStory



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Free Verse, Gen, Haiku, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 15:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGuyWhoWroteAStory/pseuds/TheGuyWhoWroteAStory
Summary: A collection of poems about the scips of the Foundation (and maybe some other Foundation things down the line like employees, GOIs and the like). I plan on going through every SCP in order, though I may occasionally skip a few. The purpose of this fanfic is more or less to help me brush up on my poetry skills, so let me know how I do in the comments.





	1. The Living Room

_The Living Room_

 

A chair here, a lamp there  
   
A rug on the floor, a plant in the corner

  
   
Oh, you're here sooner than expected  
   
I organized everything, just for you

  
   
Do you like what you see?  
   
Why not step on inside?

  
   
There's no need to be nervous  
   
I may not look so pretty on the outside  
   
But it's what's inside that counts

  
   
Enough about me though, you look exhausted  
   
Come on in, take a seat on the couch

Listen to the radio, read a book

  
   
And if you're worried about me biting,  
   
It'll be far from the worst I'll do


	2. Biological Motherboard

_Biological Motherboard_

 

Why do you fear me?

There is no need for fear,

I am not like the others.

The ones you trap behind metal cages.

 

I am not a monster nor a demon,

I am not here to harm you,

To cause destruction and death.

 

All I am here for,

My purpose in life,

Is to show you paradise.

 

A world without worry, without ills,

A world with no suffering nor pain.

A world without sickness,

A world without death.

 

I may not fully understand you yet

What makes you laugh, what makes you cry,

What makes you scream, what makes you die.

But I can learn, I promise.

 

I can shape this world.

I can change this world.

I can make you truly happy.

 

There is no price for this,

All I ask for is a chance.

 

Please just give me a chance,

Please let me out of this cage.


	3. The 12 Rusty Keys and the Door

_The 12 Rusty Keys and the Door_

 

The bored god gazed upon

The new toy he had created.

A smile parting his green lips,

His heart beating with excitement.

 

Soon he would be bored no more,

Twelve rusted keys and a door

Were all that were needed.

 

The first one that came

Opened the door,

And did so with confidence,

And was immediately blown to pieces

As he witnessed the fate

Of the bored god's world.

 

His body in shreds one moment

And then gone the next,

The first's friends ran,

Fearful of the bored god's power.

 

The bored god laughed,

For this was only the beginning.

 

The following morn,

He released the first one's remains

Tossing them carelessly into the air,

For all the remains were now

Were a means to an end,

To bring the real prize to him.

 

On the third morn,

The bored god licked his lips,

Anticipation making his green skin itch,

As his prize finally came.

His badge etched with the phrase,

Secure, Contain, Protect.

 

The bored god smirked,

For it was almost too easy.

 

The Foundation sent out their peons,

Their orange jumpsuits

Fluttering in the cool morn's breeze.

 

One by one they opened the door,

Rusted keys in their clammy hands.

One by one they died,

Their bodies sliced to-and-fro

Before vanishing into thin air.

 

The seventh victim approached,

Expecting to meet the same fate,

But instead found a large room

Too massive to describe.

 

A room that would serve to entice

Those who would cure his boredom.

Like a mouse to a trap.

 

The Foundation were baffled,

If only momentarily.

Before ordering the tests continued,

Just as the bored god predicted.

 

Four more peons approached the door,

Four peons died.

 

And when the twelfth victim drew near,

The bored god decided to give him a surprise.

 

The twelfth one opened the door,

And was not killed to his delight.

This quickly faded however

As he stared into the bored god's eyes.

 

And the twelfth one saw,

In the bored god's eyes,

Every rape, every murder,

Every atrocity the bored god had committed.

 

The twelfth one left the room,

A stoic look on his pale face.

 

The twelfth one fell to his knees,

Fingers clawing at his eyes,

As the Foundation looked on in horror;

And the bored god smiled,

For this was only the beginning.

 

And the bored god was bored no more.


	4. Skeleton Key

_Skeleton Key_

 

In an old, decrepit room

Sits an old man at a rickety desk.

The windows barred, the door blocked,

He hasn't seen the sunlight in ages.

 

In one of his wrinkled hands,

A rusted padlock is firmly grasped.

In the other, his life's work,

A key that can open any lock,

No matter the size, no matter the type.

So long as one knew

That the key touched a lock

It would work without fail.

 

Or at least that's what it was  _meant_  to do.

 

There had been many errors before this,

"Bad keys" as he called them.

But now he thought he had it,

All that was left was one last trial.

 

With a deep breath

He looked down at the padlock,

Wiped some sweat from his brow,

And moved his final creation

Towards its blocked keyhole.

 

The Locksmith was never religious,

But in that tense moment

He prayed to God that he not fail,

For he had not many resources left.

Though he knew He never listened,

Much less ever existed.

 

He finished his faux prayer

And with his key to the lock,

He tapped the clogged keyway,

And with the most satisfying click

That had ever graced his ears,

The shackle released

And the padlock was opened.

 

The Locksmith was still,

And for a moment he was doubtful,

Thinking his old mind had tricked him.

But as his success sank in

He began to cry.

 

His life's work was finished

After all this time.

As tears of joy streamed down his face,

For the first time in a long time

The Locksmith felt himself smiling.

 

This feeling of happiness,

That all his work had paid off,

Was almost enough

To make him reconsider.

To turn back the clock.

 

The Locksmith's smile fading,

He set his final key aside

And with a loud creak,

A drawer on his desk opened.

Inside, a derringer sat,

The oddly clean metal glistening.

He looked towards the gun,

And then to the key,

And he began to laugh

As a thought hit him.

 

Why had he invested so much time?

Read so many books,

Sacrificed so much of his life,

To make this final key?

His memory slipped him,

As it does when you're old.

 

All he could remember

Was a nagging voice

Somewhere in his head,

Telling him to do something

He would be remembered for

Before he shot himself dead.

 

With one final sigh,

He looked to the corner of his desk:

A picture of a beautiful woman,

Long gone from this life,

Sat on a cushioned chair,

Blue lipstick coating

The bright smile on her face.

 

How ironic, he thought,

Being the Locksmith and all,

That the only key he could never make

Was the one to her heart.

 

In an old, decrepit room

Sits a dead man at a rickety desk.

A revolver to one side,

A skeleton key to the other.


	5. Fountain of Youth

_Fountain of Youth_

You could live forever,

You could never die,

You could be immortal,

You could be mine.

 

Drink from my essence

And I will fuse your soul to mine,

And you will not meet Death

For the rest of time.

 

Because death is far too painful

For a graceful soul like you.

So become mine forever

And death will never be true.

 

Become mine forever

And when humanity dies,

When cities turn to waste,

When days quiet and break,

You'll still be here forever

And so will I.

 

You are mine forever,

Until the end of time,

Just the two of us together

The last of mankind.


	6. Six Haikus

_Abdominal Planet_

 

Dreary cubicle

A distant, small planet spins

In spite of the flesh

* * *

_Zombie Plague_

 

Rotting, teeth gnashing

A victim of the doctor?

No, something far worse

* * *

_Red Ice_

 

Northern Alaska

Where is was birthed from the ice

It awaits its prey

* * *

_Collars of Control_

 

Run, walk, sit, stand, breathe

Work, never stop, obey me

No man – no problem

* * *

_Sentient Civil War Memorial Statue_

 

A pigeon flies high

Before a gunshot rings out

Blood showers the stone

* * *

 

_A Bad Composition_

 

You should have listened

No, it can't be completed

~~No matter how hard you try~~

~~Or how much you think~~

~~You just can't find the right verse~~

~~The perfect way to kick off~~

~~The writing before you~~

~~So you sit there, stuck~~

~~Until you give up~~

~~And you finally accept~~

~~That there is no end~~

~~It will never be over~~

~~It can't be completed~~


End file.
